


Ready Player Two

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Podfic Welcome, Semi Public Sex, handjobs, porn without plot/plot what plot, slightly silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 12:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15819324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Okay,look, it’s not some weird…sex thing.





	Ready Player Two

**Author's Note:**

> this idea came to me shortly after the penultimate 'in control w/ kelsey' ep w/ ryan and shane; i'm too lazy to go back and get shane and ryan's reactions down exactly, so just roll w/ the handwaving. this is nothing but smut, and fulfills the 'sims' prompt for the august shyan scavenger hunt! 
> 
> big thanks to hannah for beta'ing, as always!
> 
> enjoy!

It’s not—

Okay, _look_ , it’s not some weird… _sex thing_ . Or not, like, a weird _video game_ sex thing.

It’s not that the little pixelated bits on the screen actually turn him on. That would be ludicrous. Not to, like, kinkshame or anything. It’s just that he’s an adult man with a healthy sex life and he’s _not_ turned on by his sim and a ghost woo-hooing in a goddamn bush. He’s _not_.

In his head, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Shane declares, _methinks you dost protest too much_ . Which is _stupid_ . He’s protesting a perfectly reasonable amount, thanks. Because it’s not, it’s absolutely _not_ the stupid fucking game that has him sporting a half chub in his pants.

It’s just…

It’s ridiculous. Because the noises coming from the game don’t even sound like real sex noises, and his sim only barely looks like his actual self. They can’t see anything even remotely scandalous and the way their heads sometimes pop out of the blurred mess and slur something in Simlish is almost fucking hysterical.

Despite all of this, Ryan squirms in his seat and hides his blushing face in his hands. It’s not the game that’s sexy. It’s the fact that, in a way, some form of him is simulating sex for all the world to see. On top of that, it’s with Kelsey and Shane at his side, and Shane is just… enjoying this, way too much. It can’t be healthy.

Shane looks downright delighted, like the cat who got the cream _and_ the canary, all wrapped up into one.

 _That’s_ what has Ryan raring to go. Not the game, not his dumb sim or his ghost girlfriend or whatever. It’s _Shane_. It’s always Shane.

The rest of the video passes in a dizzying blur. It’s fun and the woo-hooing passes by without _too_ much commentary (but some, always some) and before Ryan really notices, it’s over. They’re waving at the camera, telling people to tune in next time, and then the cameras turn off and the lights are dimmed.

Kelsey gets up and distantly, Ryan listens to her ask if either of them want coffee. He mumbles out an affirmative, as does Shane, and then they’re mostly alone, aside from the crew behind the cameras.

“Ry?”

He looks over to realize Shane has taken Kelsey’s seat; their knees brush under the table. “Hm?” Ryan asks.

“Everything okay?”

Ryan nods. “All good.”

Shane stares at him, expression blank but calculating at the same time. He reaches out and lays a hand on Ryan’s thigh. It’s not inherently a sexual touch, because Shane’s hand is really closer to Ryan’s knee than his groin but—

But Ryan moans anyway. A soft and shaky sound and _fuck_ , are their mics still on?

The surprised look on Shane’s face tells him, yeah, they probably are. Ryan swears under his breath and starts to stand. His cock presses at the zipper of his jeans and he lets out another choked off noise and freezes.

“Ryan,” Shane says. “We should take a walk.”

Ryan swallows uneasily. “But, Kelsey, and the coffees, and—?”

“Forget it.” Shane looks away from him and his hand leaves Ryan’s thigh. “Can someone help us with these mics? I think we’re done.” An intern hurries over to help them, even as Ryan still refuses to stand. It takes a little longer than usual because of that, but it’s still relatively painless. Once the intern has scurried away, Shane looks back to Ryan.

“I’m fine,” Ryan squeaks.

Shane just rolls his eyes and gets a hand around Ryan’s bicep. It’s a laughable thing, really; Shane’s nowhere near strong enough to lift Ryan, even out of a chair. But the grip is grounding, and when Shane pulls Ryan follows. He stands even as he’s painfully aware of the bulge at the front of his jeans. He lets Shane pull him from the room and down hallway after hallway before they hit a dead end, and then Shane’s shoving him into a supplies closet.

The door falls shut behind them and plunges them into darkness.

“Shane, what are you doing?” Ryan’s words are followed by a breathy gasp as Shane backs him up against the shelf. The metal digs into his back and Shane’s erection digs into his hip. “O-oh.”

“Yeah,” Shane mutters. “You looked so flustered,” he explains, all the while peppering kisses along Ryan’s jaw. “Couldn’t help myself.” He works a hand between them and thumbs over the stiff line of Ryan’s dick. “Glad to see I’m not the only one.”

Ryan whimpers and fists his hands in Shane’s shirt. “Shane, c’mon.”

“Yeah,” Shane breathes against his lips. He kisses Ryan hard and messy; his hand between them works both of their jeans open in record time and then it’s hot, silky skin against skin. Shane’s hand is dry but he gathers precome in his palm to smooth the way. Ryan’s hips jump into his touch and he moans into Shane’s mouth.

“F-fuck, Shane,” Ryan sighs. He’s going to come so fast. It would be embarrassing if he didn’t see all the tell-tale signs in Shane that say he’s going to blow his load pretty quick, too.

Shane hums against his cheek before nibbling at his ear. “Was it the bush? Or maybe all the pixels. What you can’t see is sexier, and all that?”

Ryan blinks, dazed. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Shane’s smirk burns against his skin like a brand. “The game. It got you hard, didn’t it?”

Ryan scowls but laughs. “Shut the fuck up and make me come, asshole.”

Shane kisses him again, hard enough that his head hits the shelf behind him; he hisses in pain but Shane doesn’t apologize. “Only if you admit,” Shane says, “that watching your sim bone a ghost got us here.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “No. Fuck you.”

Shane’s enormous hand squeezes around their lengths and Ryan shudders. “Mm, not quite.”

“Shane,” Ryan whines. “That wasn’t it.”

“No?” Shane sounds like he doesn’t believe him which, okay, fair.

“It was—it was _you_ , you fucking dick. You’re the weirdo,” his breathing hitches as Shane squeezes them tighter again. “You’re the weirdo who got excited about the whole thing.”

Shane snickers. “True.” He lets go long enough for his own cock to slap against his stomach, and then his hand engulfs Ryan’s dick. He strokes Ryan off quick and harsh; the overwhelming friction builds his orgasm suddenly, sharply. Ryan’s whole world narrows to the feeling of Shane’s hand on his dick.

“Gonna come,” he manages to gasp as he fucks into Shane’s fist. He’s wrinkling Shane’s shirt so fucking bad, and they’re going to stumble out of this closet looking like idiots. Idiots who just fucked in a supply closet. Everyone will know.

The thought tips him over the edge and he clings to Shane as he comes. He bites down on a shout and lets out only muffled whimpers instead. He presses his face against Shane’s neck until the tremors of his orgasm subside, all the while Shane murmurs to him gently.

“You good?” Shane asks, and once Ryan nods, Shane starts on himself.

The closet is too dark to really see, but when Ryan looks between them he can faintly make out the shape of Shane’s hand stroking himself off, the faint sheen of Ryan’s come slicking the way. Ryan moans, just this side of too loud, and watches as Shane’s rhythm goes uneven.

Ryan tilts his head back and mouths at Shane’s stubbly jaw. “C’mon, I don’t have all day,” he teases before nipping at the delicate skin.

Shane shudders and comes without a sound. His breathing gets rapid for a few split seconds before he lets out a long, satisfied sigh. Ryan gives him a moment to catch his breath before kissing him.

“You need to do something about that hand,” Ryan says with a nod to Shane’s come-sticky fingers. “Cuz that’s not gonna fly with HR.”

Even in the low light of the closet, Ryan can see Shane roll his eyes. When he moves to wipe his hand on Ryan’s shirt, Ryan shrieks and dances away. He fumbles for his jeans and belt, doing them up while also scrambling for the doorknob.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” He shouts as his back hits the door. Shane advances on him with tiny measured steps—because, really, Shane could traverse this entire closet in a single stride—and it gives Ryan just enough time to make himself remotely presentable before tumbling out of the closet. He slams the door shut behind him, uncaring of Shane’s shout of surprise, and presses his full weight against the door to keep it closed. He rests his eyes for just a second to collect himself, and when he opens them, Kelsey stands at the end of the hallway.

She’s laden down with a little coffee cup carrier, her own drink in hand. She raises an eyebrow at him, looks to the closet, and Ryan blushes.

“I was wondering where you two ended up,” she says. “I’m gonna leave these here. You’re probably gonna want to like, spray some air freshener or something.” She sets the carrier with his and Shane’s drinks in it on the floor. “See you next time!”

By the time she’s gone, Shane is pounding at the door. Ryan stumbles back to let him out and Shane trips his way over the threshold.

“You’re such a dick,” Shane says affectionately.

“Kelsey says we should probably spray some air freshener,” Ryan tells him, voice weak.

“Huh?” Shane stops, then makes an exaggerated sniffing noise. “Oh, yeah. Probably.” He ducks back into the closet and Ryan listens to him rummage around for a few minutes. There’s a hissing sound, then the overwhelming scent of lavender bleeds into the hallway. “Success!” Shane shouts. He comes back out and sprays one long line of air freshener around them before tossing the can back into the closet and pushing the door shut.

He claps his hands together as if wiping them clean. “Taken care of.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”

Shane swings an arm over his shoulder and they walk down the hall to where their coffees await them. “You really don’t.”

“Literally everything about the past half hour has been your fault.”

“Yep,” Shane agrees. “You still don’t hate me.”

Ryan tries to shove him away when Shane leans in for a kiss, but only for a moment. He leans into the kiss after a second, and admittedly, he chases after Shane a bit when the other man pulls back.

“Definitely don’t hate me.” Shane takes a long slurp of his coffee.

Ryan shoves at him playfully. “Shut up, Shane.”


End file.
